War and Peace
by NCCJFAN
Summary: War touches everyone...and the Boston PD and morgue are no exception. Woody's reserve unit is called up for two years. How does Jordan and everyone else cope with the worry, longing, and anticipation that swirls around waiting for him to come back home
1. Deployed

**Some stuff before I disclaim you.**

**First, thanks so much for your kind reviews of all my work … I do read them all and try to take them all into consideration about my writing. It's my goal to get better. I appreciate your input.**

**Second, I am not sure how this story is going to work out. A lot of this has nothing to do with the CJ series and just speculates that Woody is in the reserves. But the idea has been on my mind for a while…so many of my friends have boyfriends or husbands or girlfriends or wives that are currently in Iraq. And I have friends that are there. Regardless of how you feel about the war, our men and women are over there…and they are important no matter what your political views are. **

**So here's a little fiction piece….very angst-ridden…purely speculative, but I've tried to stay true to the characters….what would happen if Woody was called up to Iraq…and how would Jordan handle it…how would they all handle it if their favorite detective got deployed for two years?**

**However, I gotta disclaim you….**

**Tim King owns them. I don't. Wish I could change that fact. I'll trade him a 2001 mini van with 88,000 miles on it, if he wants it….I'll even throw in a coupon for a free oil change and a gift card to Starbucks.**

**

* * *

"I've been deployed."**

That's all he had to say before her world tipped upside down. He had calmly walked into her office, leaned over her desk, and spoke those dreadful words. _I've been deployed._ Jordan swallowed hard. It's not like they hadn't been expecting it. Nearly all the surrounding reserve units had been called up…it was just a matter of playing the waiting game until Woody's was.

"No," she said, her voice uncharacteristically low and shaky. "Tell me you're kidding. Tell me you're joking. Tell me that since you're a police officer, you can get out of it. Tell me anything other than the fact you're going to Iraq." She got up from her chair and came around to him, holding him his shoulders. "Tell me….tell that, Woody."

Woody took her hands off his shoulders and held them in his own. "I can't. If I did, I would be lying to you. And I've never lied to you, Jordan. I'm not going to start now." He gazed into her eyes….now filled with hurt, confusion, and anger. He wasn't sure how she would take it. Since Devan's death, they had grow increasingly closer…spending time together outside of work. They were on that cusp of the relationship where things could heat up…it could get to be serious...they could actually become a couple, when Uncle Sam called up Woody's number.

Jordan had known he was in the reserves. He had been in them since he was in college. Sure, he had done it to get financial aid for college. Same as a lot of kids. But for Woody, whose dad and uncles had served in the armed forces, the reserves held a deeper meaning…honor, service, and country. It was another way Woody knew he could give back. He was proud of his service to his country.

But like most servicemen or women in the reserves, he never actually figured he would be called on to fight.

However, time and circumstance change a lot of things, and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan certainly had. He had realized it was probably just a matter of time before he got the call…or the e-mail…or the letter. He had been right.

And now was the time. He had two weeks to get his life in order and report to Fort Bragg.

"H-h—how much time do we….do you….have?" asked Jordan, who now had a death grip on his hands.

He gently pulled her to him and hugged her. "Two weeks, sweetheart. Just two weeks to get my affairs in order, tell everyone how much I love them, and say good-bye."

He felt her shudder. "It's not fair."

"No one wants to go Jordan."

"But we…us….had just started working things out."

He felt her pull back and look in his eyes. "I know. But I'll be back before too long."

"How long is too long?"

"Two years, probably."

There were tears then. Spilling out of her eyes, onto her face, and then onto his shirt as he pulled her back to him and they both tried to adjust to the fact that in two weeks they wouldn't see each other for two years.

Two years.

Or longer, if things didn't go exactly right.

His cell phone went off then. Still holding Jordan, he answered it. Vaguely, Jordan heard him mumble something and then hang up. "Jordan, I have to go. Human relations has some forms I have to fill out. Will you be okay?"

"No. I won't. Not for two years."

"Jordan, I need you to be strong for me." He tilted her head up so she looked up into his eyes.

"I'll try, Woody. But this is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done."

"The hardest?"

She nodded. "The absolute hardest…so if I cave, don't be upset with me."

"You can do this, Jo. So can I. But I have to go right now…I'll be over later. I promise."

She nodded and tried to remain calm until he had left her office and rounded the corner to the elevators. Then she began audibly sobbing, sitting back down at her desk, her head in her hands.

Iraq. Two years. How was she going to make it?

Would he make it through? With the Iraqi elections looming on the horizon, no one was sure what would take place. And Woody would be there during that time.

So she had two weeks. Two weeks to spend all the time she could with him…two weeks to try to make up for the three years she had kept him at arms length…

Two weeks to adjust to the fact that her best friend….her _boyfriend_ … was heading overseas. _Boyfriend._ She had never said the word out loud to describe her relationship with Woody, but in her mind, she had been calling him that for months. She couldn't imagine her being with someone else.

She couldn't imagine her life without him.

She shuddered again. Everyday brought bad news….bombs, snipers....terrorist attacks anywhere anytime. In her mind, she had struggled with the rationale of war. Bullies must be stopped. Terrorism had to be halted.

But she'd be damned if she wanted the man she loved trying to stop it.


	2. Tying Up Loose Ends

**Chapter Two**

Disbelief.

That word summed up everyone's reactions to Woody's announcement. Dr. Macy wore a concerned look…Lily appeared worried…Bug was even more pensive than usual. Nigel, for once, had been rendered speechless.

His Boston PD precinct looked as if it was in mourning.

Battling between two extremes, Jordan didn't know what to do when. She promised Woody she would be strong for him. And outwardly she remained smiling. Quiet. Positive.

Inside she was still sobbing. It took everything she had in her not to break down in tears every time she saw him. All she wanted to do was hold on to him every time he was in the same room with him. Confusion reigned in her soul. They weren't exactly a couple…but they were more than friends. Garret instinctively knew what she was going through. "Take the two weeks off," he told her. "Things are kind of slow here. Spend all the time with him you can…that he'll let you." For once Jordan didn't argue with him. She clocked out and went home.

It was there Woody reached her a few hours later. "Hey," he said, finally reaching her over her cell phone. "I'm trying to pack some things up…I was wondering if I could leave my plants, antique robots, and a few clothes with you…something I don't want to put in storage?"

"Sure, Woody."

"When will you be home?"

"I'm home now."

"Why?" The puzzlement was in his voice.

"Garret gave me some time off."

It suddenly became painfully obvious to Woody why Jordan took the time away from work. "Jo…are you okay?"

Remembering his request that she remain strong…for him…she replied. "Yeah…fine. Bring your things on over. I'll be glad to keep them for you." _I'll be glad to keep something of you with me,_ she thought. Maybe he'd have a stray sweatshirt or something she could sleep in….

She went to her bedroom and began to move some of her things around in her closet to make room for his items. Twenty minutes later, Woody was at her door, three boxes in tow.

"We can put your plants in the kitchen…there's plenty of light and I promise I'll water them once a week. The box your robots are in can slide under my coffee table. I swear, I'll guard them with my life."

"Can I hang my suits in your closet?"

"Yes. I made some room for them…what about the rest of your clothes?"

"Garret's letting me keep most of the other stuff in his basement, so I don't have to rent a storage locker. I'll find a new apartment when I get back."

_When you get back. Do you know how long that's going to seem? Do you know how much I'm going to miss you?_ she thought as they put the rest of this things in her closet. The tight feeling in her chest returned. Facing him, she gently grabbed his sleeve before he could exit her bedroom. "Woody, I know you're busy right now, but do you think you could stay for a little while? Maybe we could order a pizza…or something?"

Regret filled his eyes. "Sorry, Jo. I've got so much to do before I leave…there's so many loose ends I have to tie up." Noting the crestfallen look on her face, he quickly added, "But since you've got a couple of weeks off, maybe you could come with me tomorrow while I run my errands? We could grab lunch?"

Pinning a smile on her face, she nodded and walked him to the door. He turned to look at her one more time. "Jordan, are you sure you're okay?"

She nodded. "I just….miss you already."

He pulled her to her then. "I'll miss you, too…more than you know." He tilted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, and lightly touched his lips to hers. "But we'll see each other tomorrow."

And they did. The next day. And all the days following. Jordan went with him as he finalized his paperwork at the precinct, ran by his reserve unit office, and followed through with the thousands of details that would encompass him leaving Boston for two years.

She was there when he called Cal. His brother promptly planned to fly in the following week.

They had lots of time together, but were rarely alone. Woody's pushed schedule didn't allow for it. He would kiss each time he left her….passionate kisses that would send her blood boiling, but he would go no further…leaving her warm from his caresses but aching for so much more. Finally, one night, after one more kiss she stopped him from leaving. Gently, putting her hand on his arms to stop him from opening the door, she said, "Woody, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, Jordan. Anything."

She lowered her head, building the courage to ask him, "You're getting ready to leave for Iraq for two years. Two years. We won't see each other for at least that long. And…and…you haven't …."

"Haven't what, Jo?"

"Made love to me," she said in a hurry, thinking if she could get it all out quickly, she wouldn't be embarrassed. It didn't work. Her cheeks grew warm at her words.

Woody chuckled softly and lifted her face to his. "Sweetheart, it's not that I haven't wanted to. I just don't want to make things harder for you when I'm gone. I see what you're going through now….I know when I come pick you up in the mornings, you've either not slept a lot, or you've been crying. I just don't want to make things more difficult for you when I'm gone."

Jordan closed her eyes and inwardly sighed. She knew he had her best interests at heart, but still, a part of her longed for that level of intimacy before he left. However, he was the one leaving… "Oh," she finally said, so softly he nearly didn't hear her. "So that's it…I understand." She opened her eyes. "You need to do what you feel is best." She kissed him one more time and let him go out into the night.


	3. Getting Ready to Go

**Chapter Three**

The days were whizzing by, far too quickly for Jordan's peace of mind. For once, she wished she had the power to stop or at least slow down time. For her own sake, she spent as much time as she could with Woody…soaking up his presence…the smell of his cologne…the feel of his hand on her arm….the touch of his lips. The urge to hold him close every time she saw him was still there, often driving her to hug him for seemingly no reason…but he knew. Woody knew why at night she didn't want to let him go…he saw her blink back tears whenever they were watching the news on television and scenes from Iraq were broadcast across the screen.

He also knew she was putting on a happy front just for him…trying to remain outwardly strong, even if on the inside she was slowly caving in. The pain in her eyes haunted him at night. He was completely aware that Jordan was far more involved in their relationship that she had wanted to admit in the past. He was concerned about her…more concerned for her than for his own safety.

Woody watched her carefully, wondering exactly what to do to try to ease her pain now, but not cause her anymore in the future…and if that was even possible. At the end of her first week off, Jordan was with him at his apartment, helping him pack up the small things he had remaining. A moving company would be in the following week to get the larger items…his furniture, his bed…and take them to Garret's house. She was putting his kitchen items in a box, packing them carefully, wedging newspapers and bubble wrap between the things, when Woody noticed her hands were shaking…visibly, this time. He had often felt her fingers flutter when he was holding her hand…perceptible only to him. He would give her hands a reassuring squeeze then, and the quivering would stop, at least for a while.

But this was the first time he had seen them shake so badly. Quietly coming up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. "Jo…what's wrong?"

Jordan took a deep breath and tried to think of something to say. Something positive. Something that wouldn't let him know how worried she was. She opened her mouth, praying for the right words. Instead, to her alarm, her voice broke. Woody turned her around in his arms and hugged her, gently rubbing her back, running his hands down her hair…trying to get her to calm down…working to get her sobs to subside. "Shh…Jordan…I'll be fine. I promise. The two years will go fast…wait and see. I'll be home on leave at some point…for at least three weeks. We can do this, Jo. You can do this."

She nodded against his chest. Pinning a smile on her face one more time, she looked up at him. "I know. I just…worry, you know? Sometimes it all gets to me, and … I just worry."

"Don't. I'll be fine. Nothing's going to happen…I swear."

She nodded one more time and pulled away from him. "It's getting late. I need to go so you can get to bed. I'll meet you in the morning for coffee…Starbucks okay?" She pulled on her jacket and grabbed her purse. She needed to get out of his apartment, and the sooner the better. She wanted to go home, where within the safety of the four walls of her apartment, she could let her defenses down and cry for as long as she needed to. And she needed to get there soon. The emotions of the evening….packing his things, wondering what to do with them if anything happened to him. Then wondering what _she_ would do if anything happened to him…it was all crashing down on her now and she knew she was close to tears.

Tears he didn't need to see. She didn't want Woody worrying about her. His mind needed to stay on himself right now…what he needed to do.

What he could be facing.

Woody walked her to the door, and tilted her face up to his…to kiss her good night and tell her to drive safely…But her eyes stopped him. Those whiskey-colored eyes were filled with worry and pain. Anxiety. A mass of unsettled emotions swam behind the tears she was barely holding back. "Damn," he half –whispered to himself, pulling her to him and holding her close. Jordan remained stiff in his arms for a second, willing herself not to break down now. Then his lips found hers. And this was no chaste good night kiss.

He slated his lips against hers, pressing them open…letting his tongue dance with hers…and she gave him back kiss for kiss without hesitation. And offered no objection when he carried her to the darkened bedroom.

He flipped on the bedside light to softly illuminate the room, and slowly lowered her feet to the floor. Cupping her face with both of his hands, he looked deep into her eyes, seeing if there was any hesitation…second thoughts. There wasn't. Her hand were already busy with the buttons on his shirt, hurriedly undoing them and pushing his shirt off. "Slow down, sweetheart," he murmured against her lips. "We've got all night."

She ran her palms up the front of his chest, her palms coming to rest on his pecs. "Sorry…I just feel like someone is going to come through the front door and take you away before I'm ready to give you up."

He smiled against her lips. "Well, that's not going to happen tonight. I promise." But he was returning the favor, unbuttoning her blouse and tugging it off of her, then taking her down on the bed with him. They lay side by side, facing each other…her gentle exploration of his chest continued, punctuated by soft, open-mouthed kisses…He fumbled with the hooks on her bra, finally getting it unfastened and pulling it off. Then doing some exploring of his own…kissing his way down the side of her neck…lingering at that spot just beneath her ear that made her gasp…across her collar bone, to lick the hollow at the base of her neck. Her soft whimper made him look her in the eyes. "You're sure?" he quietly asked.

She nodded and pulled him back to her. "Never more sure of anything in my life." His kisses and caresses became more passionate then…more direct…she reached down and unfastened the front of her jeans and let him pull them off…then he took off his own. His fingers hesitated on the sides of her panties, pulling away and looking at them…a soft, lacy, baby-pink thong. He swallowed hard.

"Do you always wear underwear like that?"

She nodded.

"Always? You mean ever since I've met you…underneath those jeans was this?"

"Yeah." She smiled up at him. "And you never knew… what would you have done if you did know?"

"Sure as hell wouldn't have been able to concentrate on my work. I'm never going to be able to look at you the same again."

"Good. Objective obtained, soldier."

"Not quite. But it soon will be." He continued to caress and touch her…cataloguing every sigh and moan…committing it to memory. Until she couldn't wait any longer…then she suddenly became acutely aware of the light still on in his bedroom. "Woody…the light?"

"Leave it on. I want to remember you…how you look now…when I'm over there. It might be a long time before I see you this way again."


	4. Good Bye

**Chapter Four**

The next week was one of the hardest weeks in Woody's life…saying farewell to everyone. Cal flew in on Wednesday. Jordan went with Woody to pick him up at the airport. The greeting between the two brothers was touching. She found tears welling up in her own eyes over the emotions of the moment.

Telling all his fellow officers and morgue staff good-bye was more difficult than Woody could even imagine to begin with. There was laughter as good times were remembered….and some tears with the fact that it could be two years before he saw them again sunk in.

Jordan planned a huge party at the Pogue the Friday night before he flew out on Saturday. Nigel had helped. Drinks and food flowed and the juke box rocked all night. She kept smiling all evening, but inside she was dying a little with each minute that passed by. Finally, around eleven, the crowd began to file out…remembering that Woody needed his sleep. His plane left at ten the next morning flying out to Fort Bragg. From there he would go to Iraq. When the last beer mug had been put in the washer, the counter wiped down, and the chairs stacked on top of the table, Woody did what he and Jordan had done for years. Dropping some change in the juke box, he held out his hand and she went to him. _When a Woman Cries_ came drifting out of the speakers. Jordan wondered once again how Woody was able to match music to her moods. He knew her more intimately than anyone else…he could read her emotions as well as his own. He knew what she was thinking before she even said it.

It was no surprise he knew she was dying inside tonight…this was there last night together for a long time. He held her close as they gently drifted across the dance floor and Joe Cocker's voice filled the room. Jordan was in tears one more time before the song was over. Woody was struggling himself.

"I'm going to miss you, Jordan," he said into her hair, his voice breaking just a bit.

"I can't tell you how lost I'm going to be without you," she replied. "I'm going to be counting every day of the next two years, Woody."

He ran a finger down her nose and lifted her chin. "Me, too. Thank God for e-mail and cell phones…at least we can be in touch during the next twenty-four months."

"Everyday, soldier. I'll be sending something everyday…but I know you may not be able to write to me that often."

Woody nodded. "I'll do my best, sweetheart. But you're right. It may be several days between e-mails or calls." He looked into her eyes. "I'm going to miss coming into the morgue and irritating you…"

"You never really did, you know. I pretended…but I was always happy to see you. I'm going to miss that," she said, wistfully.

He smoothed her hair back, running his fingers through the long chestnut waves. "You're going to be okay, Jordan." It wasn't a question.

She pulled him close. "I know. But if I could have one wish tonight…just one….do you know what that would be?"

"What?"

"You'd always be here…safe. With me."

Safe…How many times had he been concerned aboutt her safety? "You know I'm going to worry about you while I'm gone."

"Don't. You need to stay focused on what you need to do."

"Well…I am. Who's going to make sure you don't get into trouble while I'm over there?"

"I promise…..promise….I'll be careful." She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "Really. I can do that, Woody."

He raised one eyebrow and gave her a skeptical look. "Honest?"

"I give you my word."

"And….you better keep it. When I come back home, I want you all in one piece…ready for me."

"I'll be ready for you…we'll be back out on cases together in no time."

"That's not exactly what I meant," he said, gently brushing her lips with hers.

"Oh. What exactly do you mean?" she asked, amusement rising in her voice.

"This." He began to kiss her in earnest then, running his hands up her sides to finally anchor one hand in hair and let the other splay across her backside, pulling her close. She moaned against his mouth.

"Home?" she requested, a note of urgency in her voice.

"Home."

They drove back to her apartment in near silence, both caught up in their own thoughts…until they arrived. Jordan unlocked the door. Woody shut it and locked it, then pulled her against the door, and returned to kissing her again.

This time there was no finesse or prelude to the depth of his caresses now. There was just raw want…need…to be together. Jordan surrendered to his desires now…holding on to him for dear life…wanting to make the night last as long as she could. Woody finally drew a deep breath and pulled her close. Reality was setting in for him now…tonight was it. It could be their last time together for possibly two years. He managed to get her to her bedroom….each undressing the other along the way, making love to her until the wee hours of the morning…doing his best to press into his memory her scent…the feel of her against him…the look on her face. When it was over, he settled her against him, fully prepared to hold her the rest of the night.

Jordan had other ideas.

She was just as determined to love him as he had her, pressing kisses along his collarbone…up his neck…over his face…down his nose, to his lips. He wrapped his arms around her to roll her beneath him one more time, but she stopped him, pushing him back into the pillows, continuing to kiss her way down his chest, stopping to rasp her teeth against his nipple, reveling in the sharp intake of his breath. She trailed her tongue down his stomach, stopping to circle his navel, finally straddling him.

Until they were both spent…and they slept until the alarm went off too soon for either of them.

* * *

He was at the airport by nine, checking in and making sure he all the last minute details taken care of. He was in his uniform…and Jordan's breath caught every time she looked at him. He seemed taller and his shoulders broader, than when he was in his typical detective suit.

Cal went with Jordan to see him off. Jordan stepped away to give the brothers time together. She and Woody had said their good-byes last night. Her cheeks grew warm at the memories, until finally Woody glanced over at her. From the look in his eyes, she knew he was remembering, too. A familiar warmth washed over her. He pulled her over to him, right before the boarding call came for his plane.

"I don't know how to say good-bye to you Jordan," he said.

"Don't say it, then. Good-byes are so final and I've said good-bye to more people in my life than I want to remember. Tell me you'll see me, safe and sound, in two years."

He smiled down at her. "Okay," he said. "I'll see you in two years…in one piece."

She gave him a weak smile in return. "I'll hold you to that, Soldier Boy."

"No more Farm Boy, huh?"

"Not for awhile."

Woody took both of her hands in hers. Now was the time. They were announcing that his plane was boarding. "Jordan," he said softly, "look at me, sweetheart." He cupped her cheek with his hand so he could look in her eyes….that were swimming in unshed tears now. "Jordan, I'm going to try my very best to get back to you in one piece. But I can't control everything. So I want you to know…just in case I don't come back….I love you. And when I come back, we're going to do something about it. Until then, I would like to ask you if you would wear this." He took a small, white box out of his uniform and handed it to her.

She gingerly lifted the lid. Inside was a silver necklace with a cross on it…small diamonds outlined the cross. "Woody….it's beautiful…."

He lifted the necklace from the box and fastened it around her neck. "It was my mother's. I'd like for you to have it. She put it back for me and told me….before she died….that it was for the girl that would be my wife."

Jordan turned back to him, her eyes wide. "Woody?"

"This is not a formal proposal….I want something a little more romantic than an airport terminal. But…let's just say…it something for you to remember me by…and something to think about for the next several months."

Jordan gently fingered the cross. "I'll take good care of it…you just take care of you…come home to me soon."

The final boarding call for Woody's plane came over the intercom. "I've got to go now." He kissed her one last time…bittersweet and too brief…hugged Cal and disappeared into the plane's boarding area, handing his ticket to the stewardess. He turned again and gave them a brief wave.

Then he was gone.


	5. Emails from Home

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while since I've updated, but I'm trying to be true to the characters and to how things are playing out in Iraq. I've also tried to talk to as many folks with spouses or sweethearts over there and find out the ins and outs of relationships while the deployment is still going on.**

**A HUGE thanks to Bourbon for her insights and help….**

**Feed back is always welcome….and needed for this story. It's difficult to write this one.**

**Chapter Five**

_Six months later …. _

If e-mail would have cost anything to send, Jordan would have been broke by now.

She e-mailed him at least once a day…sometimes twice. More on the weekends when she had time on her hands and he wasn't there to spend it with. She kept him up to date on the cases they had worked on together and the new ones that crossed her desk, asking for his opinion, his insights….She included tidbits about the people they both worked with. Nigel got a new bike. Bug and Lily finally went out.

But mostly she told him she missed him. And to be careful. And that she loved him…a lot.

He would answer her back as often as he could, not really revealing any information about what he was doing…he couldn't He just told her he was safe and that he missed her and loved her, too. He asked that she send him a picture of her. _I know it sounds crazy, but do you realize after all the time we've spend together…all the things we've done and been through, I don't have a picture of you? Anyway, I can get one? The guys over here think I'm lying when I tell them I'm dating the hottest woman in Boston. I'd like some proof to back myself up, doctor. ASAP, please._

Jordan grimaced on this one. She hated having her picture taken. Knowing this, Woody e-mailed Nigel, who was handy with a camera. Nigel took the pictures of Jordan…an entire roll. Jordan picked out several and sent them to Woody, with the message, "I'll be happiest when you see me in person."

Phone calls were sporadic. Sometimes they came once a week, sometimes every several days. Then there were times when she didn't hear from him for a couple of weeks. It was during these times her stomach would curl into knots and heave at every newscast that mentioned car bombs and suicide bombers…how many men were injured.

How many were killed.

Woody would call her as soon as he could after he knew she had heard the bad news, to reassure her he was fine. Jordan would take these calls wherever she was or in the middle of whatever she was doing. It didn't matter if she was in autopsy, out on a case, or in the shower, she answered her phone. Garret cut her a lot of slack during these times. It was difficult for him to watch worry consume her.

Woody did his best to reassure Jordan that everything was fine and he was safe, but through her e-mails, he did notice something different…a change, in Jordan herself. At first, he did all he could to set her mind at rest with his situation and to support her in the belief that she was strong enough to go through this two year period without him. Then, as she became more open about herself in her e-mails, he noticed something else:

She had much more strength than anyone realized.

She lived one day at a time without him, doing her job, coping, working at the Pogue some nights, getting through to the next day to see what it would hand her. It was then and only then that Woody could confess to her how scared he was sometimes…how sometimes it was nearly paralyzing, the fear that would grip him that he would be the victim of the next car bomb.

_Woody, I can't tell you how to deal with it,"_ she wrote him. _I only can tell you that I have the same fear. Some days I live from second to second…worrying, wondering….I try to keep busy and not think about the possibilities of something happening, but only of you. How much I miss you. How wonderful it's going to be to have you home again. How much I love you._

_I can tell you from personal experience, from a life long lived in fear, that it does keep you on your toes. So it's probably a good thing for you to be a little afraid right now, soldier. It keeps you alert. It may keep you alive. _

_But I've seen you work through your fear…you were always the first man through the door on a call…I have a feeling when and if the time comes, that same instinct that kicked in with the Boston PB will kick in with the US Army. I have all the faith in the world you will do the right thing._

_I also have all the faith in the world you'll come back to me safely. _

_Love, Jordan_

Her faith in him and his abilities was staggering…He read her words and took them to heart, praying that God and his instincts would both kick in at the appropriate times. He admired her strength and faith on one level, but was jealous of them on another. With the strength she developed during the time he was gone, would she need or want him when he got back? As time went on he wondered…when he returned home, would she even have a place for him in her life? He had to know…so during one of his phone calls to her, he broached the subject. "Jordan…how are you doing without me?" he tentatively asked.

She heard the hesitation in his voice….the ache. She knew it was there because she heard it in her own voice too many times.

"I'm existing, Woody. Only existing. It's hard to really live when the other half of you is so far away."

"The other half?"

"Yeah," she smiled into her phone. "The other half. The half that looks out for me…makes me feel safe…that loves me even when I'm unlovable. The part that makes me a better person."

He sighed in relief. "Then…you still need me, Jo?"

"More than my next breath. Why?"

"I was just wondering…if you missed me as much as I miss you."

"Sweetheart… I don't think they make a word strong enough to say how much I miss you."


	6. Furlough

**Chapter Six**

And so the months dragged.

And in the words of Charles Dickens, it truly was the best of times and the worst of times.

The good part was seeing how the folks back in Boston rallied around their soldier-detective. He was sent more e-mails, cards, and packages than he knew what to do with. He divided most of his "goodies" up with his fellow servicemen.

And he would have traded them all in for 24-hours at home with Jordan and the rest of the people he loved. That was the bad part. No matter how much he appreciated everything the folks in Boston did for him, it wasn't the same as being with them.

Not that there weren't a few bright spots in Iraq. Not many, but between the sand, MRE's, and sleeping in a tent, they were greatly appreciated. For Woody, it was seeing the Iraqi children.

It was a little girl that caught his eye…no older than nine, he'd guess. It was her honey-colored eyes that got his attention…so much like Jordan's he nearly lost his breath. And with those eyes and her dark hair, Woody would bet any money the little girl was a dead ringer for Jordan at that age. So at every opportunity, he, as well as some of the other soldiers, would play with the kids…and Woody paid particular attention to this shy, young girl. It helped him pass his free time, and helped fill the void in his life that not being with Jordan left.

A year came and went. The holidays had come and gone. Jordan had wistfully packed a box of things for Woody, wishing with everything in her that either he could be home with her, or she could mail herself to Iraq along with the tins of cookies and brownies, jars of peanut butter, and other things that she knew would make his life a little more comfortable.

He called on Christmas Day. And as hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the tears back. "Are you all right?" she quizzed him. "Is the fighting near where you are? How are you doing?" The questions tumbled out in a rush.

"I'm fine, Jordan. No. The fighting's not too near where I am. I'm hot…dirty…tired, but I'm okay. How are you and things in Boston?"

"I miss you…horribly, but I'm okay. Boston is good, but not the same without you. Garret and everyone at the morgue send their love…The police department does, too."

"Well, we've made it through twelve months, just twelve more to go. We've got to look at this way - we're on the downhill end of this thing."

"I know, Woody. I'm just ….." She didn't want to say she was afraid something would happen….or that they wouldn't let him go at the end of twelve months. "I just wish the time would pass faster, somehow. I miss you…so much."

"I miss you, too. And it will go by quickly. I've put in for a furlough. I'm due for one. Hopefully I can come home for a few weeks soon."

Jordan caught her breath. "When?"

"I don't know…when or if I'll even get it. I've just asked for one. The elections here are over, and things have quieted down."

"I hope the army is agreeable, soldier boy. I need to see you."

"I need you, too…It feels like ten years since I've seen you…or kissed you."

Jordan could feel herself blush, even though Woody was hundreds of miles away. "Well…we have a lot of time to make up for. Get your rest."

Woody chuckled. "Will do."

* * *

A month passed. Then the next. It was February. Jordan was trying her best to ignore the hearts and flowers that signaled the arrival of Valentine's Day. It would have been a quiet and romantic affair with Woody…but it would have been memorable. Dinner. Dancing. Champagne. Chocolate. Making love and sleeping in the next morning.

Instead, she pulled overtime at the morgue, allowing those who had sweethearts to spend Valentine's Day with the opportunity to leave early. She finished up around seven and decided to treat herself to a bubble bath. A luxury she rarely allowed herself. She arrived at her apartment, turned on the water, dumped in an outrageous amount of bubble bath and bath salts, and began to shed her clothes. She dimmed the lights and lit some scented candles…she needed this time to herself…to regroup….allow her thoughts to drift to Woody and pray that he was safe. She hadn't gotten a Valentine's Day card from him, but given the variances of the United States Postal System, she wasn't surprised.

She tested the water with one toe….before sliding one long leg in and then the other, sinking back and resting her head, the bubbles covering her up to her shoulders. She leaned her head against the back of the tub and adjusted the knobs that controlled the water with her feet. She grinned. If Garret knew she was so podiatrically adept, he'd have her doing autopsies with both ends. Slowly the warm water worked its magic and her tired, achy muscles began to unknot and she dozed off…

She never heard him knock. He knew she was in her apartment, her El Camino was in the parking lot. He knocked twice. Then he banged. Finally, taking a key to her apartment from his pocket, he quietly let himself in…to be welcomed with the sound of running water. He took off his shoes and softly padded to the bathroom.

And lost his breath at the sight of her in the tub…covered only with the froth of the bubble bath….Aphrodite rising from the ocean could have not looked any lovelier.

The water was dangerously close to running over the edge of the tub, so without thinking he reached over and turned it off. The sudden silence woke her up.

She blinked. And blinked again. Surely, she was still asleep….still dreaming…but the image wouldn't leave. Finally the mirage grinned at her. "Can I join you?" he asked, taking off his jacket and beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"Woody? Oh, Woody!"

* * *

_A Tale of Two Cities,_ Charles Dickens. 


	7. A Busy Lady

**Chapter Seven**

Nigel peeked in Jordan's office. She wasn't there. She wasn't in autopsy and the lights were still off in trace. In short, she was nowhere to be found.

He frowned to himself. She didn't come in yesterday. And she didn't call. That wasn't like her. Garret hadn't mentioned anything about her being sick…but then the chief ME hadn't acted to upset when Jordan didn't show up for work yesterday or today. Puzzled, he finally poked his head into Dr. Macy's office. "Dr. M….have you seen Jordan? I can't find her and I need her signature on these forms before I submit them to Walcott."

Garret smiled at Nigel. "No. I haven't seen her. I doubt any of us will today, either. She's sort of busy. Let me have the forms and I'll sign them for her."

"Jordan's busy? Is something wrong with Max or the Pogue?" This was the Brit's way of trying to find out exactly what was up with her. And Garret knew it.

"Nope. All is fine. Got a call from a certain detective-turned-soldier. Seems he's in on a three-week furlough. He requested that Jordan be able to take a few days off. I could hardly refuse." He grinned at Nigel.

"Woody's home?"

"Came in night before last. He called me on his way to Jordan's apartment."

Nigel chuckled. "I guess she is a busy lady, then."

And she was. From the time Woody joined her in the bubble bath until right now while they were cooking breakfast together, he had kept her very busy…not that she was complaining. She yawned and pushed a curl behind her ear. Woody caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. "Tired?" he asked, in a teasing voice.

"Just a little…" she answered, blushing faintly at the reason she was exhausted.

"We could go back to bed and just sleep…I swear."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing him.

"I mean it. I don't want you all tired out…we've got three weeks to go."

"Do you mind?"

"No. Go lay back down. I finish the dishes and join you in a few minutes."

Jordan handed him her dishtowel and went back to the bedroom, eyeing the bed that was now a tangled mass of sheets and linens. She straightened up the bedclothes a little and climbed back under them, dozing back off almost immediately. It wasn't that she hadn't slept any since he had been back…it just hadn't been her normal amount. A year was a lot of time to catch up on. When Woody hadn't been making love to her, they had been talking, reluctant to leave each other at all…Jordan was too afraid she'd wake up and discover it was all a dream….that he was still in Iraq and she was all alone in Boston.

She woke back up in his arms, several hours later…feeling rested…and watched. She rolled over and found him looking at her. Softly he stroked a finger down the side of her face. "I've missed you, Jordan." The fingers trailed from her cheek to her neck, gently fingering the cross around her neck. "You're still wearing it."

"I never take it off except to shower…"

He smiled. "Want to replace it with a ring?"

Jordan caught her breath. She wanted to…but not now. She wanted to wait until he was back in Boston permanently. But she also didn't want to hurt his feelings. Quietly, she replied, "I want to, Woody. But I'd rather wait until your back here for good."

"Why?"

"Because…when we're engaged…when you're my fiancé, I just want you here…to help me plan things…to be with me. I just would rather wait."

"Jo, I don't care what kind of wedding we have…that's totally up to you. I just want to leave knowing you're mine….my girl. And I want everyone else to know it, too."

"Woody, I am yours. Totally and only yours. A ring, or lack of one, doesn't change anything. But we'd be engaged a whole year without being with each other. I want my engagement to be more than that…a special time for both of us. And I don't want a long engagement. We've danced around the issue of each other for nearly four years. By the time you get back, it'll be five…"

"So you want a short engagement and quickie wedding?"

"Pretty much. But until then, I'm all yours. You don't have to worry."

He hugged her to him…it wasn't the answer he wanted….it wasn't the one he expected. Her ring was in his jacket pocket. But he guessed he understood where she was coming from. It wasn't that he ever doubted Jordan's fidelity. He just wanted to leave the States with a huge warning sign on the ring finger of her left hand that the lady was out of circulation.

* * *

Jordan had to go to work the next day. Woody went with her, making his way to the police department, to surprise his chief and co-workers. Jordan went to her office, to get caught back up on work and endure the teasing of Nigel and Bug….and the knowing glances of Garret. "Geez," she told them, "it's not like any of you haven't called in late or wanted a day or two off to be with someone."

"Not me. Not ever," deadpanned Bug.

"Then Bug, you so need to get a life," she replied, thumbing through reports and screens that were on her desk. As usual, she got so caught up with her work, she forgot about the time, until a knock on her door got her attention.

"You free for lunch, Dr. Cavanaugh?" It was Woody….looking so much like old times in his suit, with his Boston PD badge hanging from his neck that she nearly forgot he was stationed in Iraq and only had three weeks with her. She nearly let herself repress the thought completely, until the look in his eyes brought her back to reality. Something wasn't right.

"Yes, sir, detective," she replied, keeping a smile on her face and her tone light until they could get somewhere they could talk.


	8. Time Flies

**Chapter Eight**

"They haven't kept me up-to-date on anything, Jordan. Nothing. Forms have changed, some procedures have changed, but they never took the time to let me know. Never e-mailed me…or told me over the phone. How am I supposed to be able to keep up when I get back if I'm not made aware of what's happening while I'm gone?" Woody's voice carried an angry tone.

Jordan looked down at her salad. She knew that the department hadn't done it intentionally. "Woody, they knew you had enough to worry about over in Iraq without having something so mundane as forms and procedures cluttering up your head. They knew it wouldn't take you that long to catch up. That's why they didn't tell you."

He sighed. He knew she spoke the truth, but it didn't make his reality any better. "I know, I know," he finally got out, covering his eyes with his fingers, "But that still doesn't make it any easier. It's like they….they forgot about me once I was gone…that I didn't matter, even though I am still a detective with the Boston Police Department."

Jordan set her coffee cup down on the table with a little more force than necessary. The brown liquid spilled over the sides. "Listen to me, Woody. No one….I mean no one…has forgotten about you. We all hope and pray and listen to the news…And I live from e-mail to e-mail and phone call to phone call, sometimes having to remind myself to breathe in between them. We haven't forgotten you. But we realize that it's really important for you to stay focused on what you're doing over there….and not be distracted because we want you to come home safe and sound. Meanwhile…life goes on here in Boston. Things change. But it's nothing major and nothing you can't deal with when you get back."

"What about you, Jordan? Does your life go on, too?"

Jordan knew what he was getting at. "That is not the reason I told you I wouldn't wear your ring right now. When we become engaged, I want you with me….but I'm not seeing anyone else while you're gone. Ask any of my co-workers. I work and go home, and get up the next day and do it all again. In the middle of it all, I live for a word from you. If you believe otherwise, then you really don't know me after all these years, Woody."

Woody looked down at the table and sighed again. "I'm sorry, Jordan. It's just when you're over there, you don't expect anything to change at home. Your mind just can't possibly absorb that fact that things at home won't be exactly the same as when you left. When you're living in a tent and eating MRE's, you don't want to think about anything with you old job or the people you love changing. You want things to stay the same. You expect them to. Then when you come home and find out even little things are different, or things don't go the way you have them played out in your mind, you get a little angry. It's like everything's changed and no one's asked your permission or what you think of it. It's like the anchor of your soul has been ripped out from underneath you.

Jordan's eyes softened as his frank admission. Reaching out and gently taking his hand, she said, "I'm sorry, too. But I haven't changed. Nor have my feelings for you. I love you. That will never, ever alter. You can bet on it. I'll wait for you until you come home…no questions asked."

Woody looked deep into her eyes. He knew it was true. He tightened his hold on her hands. "I believe you, Jo. It' just….Oh, I don't know….to be able to pick up exactly where things were when I left?"

She nodded. "I understand. I do. When I returned to Boston from LA, it was difficult to adjust to how much the morgue had changed, how much my dad had changed….I expected everything to be the same. Instead, I went to work at a place that in no way resembled the place I left….it was hell on earth until Garret took over….My father was living with a woman that hated me. And I was homeless. I couldn't afford an apartment and wasn't welcomed at my dad's house. It was tough."

"So you do know…" Woody dropped his head in his hands. "I'll be glad when this last year is over, Jordan. I am so looking forward to being home….being with you….being a detective again. I want my life back."

Impulsively, Jordan reached over and raised his face to hers with her hand, and gave him a brief kiss. "You just be careful over there. I want you back."

* * *

The first week flew by. Then the second. Woody spent the days with his friends while Jordan worked. The nights were theirs. She pulled no doubles nor was on rotation as long as he was home.

And all too soon the third week was nearly up. Jordan found herself close to tears nearly every time she looked at Woody. If watching him leave the first time was hard, she thought seeing him go back to the Iraqi battlefields the second time would kill her. Woody knew how she was feeling…he could tell by the slump of her shoulders and the look in her eyes. "It will be fine," he told her repeatedly. "It's only for another year."

She'd nod and hold him close, feeling him wrap his arms around her and pull her to him. She'd bury her nose in his shirt, trying to commit to memory what he smelled like…felt like…tasted like. It would be those memories that would keep her warm and sane while he finished his reserve duty.

There was another get together at the Pogue two days before he left … complete with dancing. When everyone had left that evening, Woody held back… "One more dance, Jordan?" he asked, picking a song on the jukebox and puller her to him. Talk about dejavu. It was so much like the first time he had with the huge lump in her throat. "You okay?" he finally asked, noting her silence.

Her only response was to snuggle closer and wrap her arms around his neck.

"Guess not," he surmised, looking at her face, observing the tears in her eyes. "Jordan, you can do this for another year. I'm going to be fine. So are you. And when we get back, we're getting married. Quickly. Understand?"

She nodded, still not trusting her voice, struggling to regain her composure. "Yes….I do. And I agree. It's just…"

"Just what?"

She shook her head. "Just kiss me, Woody. Please?"

He smiled down at her. "I can't refuse you that…" And he slowly lowered his head and found her lips. She immediately opened her mouth for him, and he began a slow exploration of it, with one hand tangling in her hair, anchoring her head and the other arm holding her firmly against him.

They had made love….kissed….many times during his three week leave, but this time, it was different. This time Woody was pulling out all the stops…letting her know how much he cared for her. This kiss, even more than his others, made her knees buckle and her toes curl. He only broke it to begin to rain kisses over her face, down her neck, and across her shoulders and collar bone, before finding her lips again.

Jordan was losing it….her head was spinning and she held on to his shoulders for dear life. "We need to go home," she heard him whisper in her ear, "Fast."

"No. I can't wait…there's a couch in the office….then we can go home."

"Are the doors locked?" he asked, still kissing her neck.

"Front and back."

He picked her up and carried her to the office, slamming the door behind him.


	9. Prayers and Promises

**Chapter Nine**

It was a slow hell without him now.

She had taken him back to the airport, kissed him good-bye, and watched his plane leave. She hadn't been the same since. Missing him before he came home on furlough was bad. Now it was worse.

And underneath it all, she had this tickling, worrisome fear that he wouldn't be coming home in the promised twelve months. Whether it was just a figment of her over-worried imagination or a premonition, she wasn't sure. She just knew she couldn't release herself of the anxiety. It was a constant companion during her free time and manifested itself in her dreams at night.

Woody continually reassured her through his e-mails that he was fine. The trip back had been uneventful. Things there were actually pretty quiet. As a matter of fact, he was nearly bored. There wasn't that much to do now and the day-to-day monotony was slowly driving him crazy. He was counting down the days until he could be mustered out and returned to Boston.

He was at a security check with some other soldiers, when a car pulled up and stopped several feet from where they were at. A man got out of the car and began to walk over the cluster of soldiers who were now warily walking to him. Suddenly, Woody's instincts kicked in. He pushed two of the other soldiers out of the way as a bomb went off , tearing through the quiet stillness of an Iraqi morning.

* * *

Something had happened. She knew it. She could feel it. He hadn't answered her last four e-mails…as matter of fact, she hadn't heard from him in any form for two days. He at least e-mailed her everyday.

Something was wrong.

She called his reserve unit's Boston number. They wouldn't tell her anything. She had heard of some bombings, but since she wasn't sure where he was at, she really didn't know if his unit was involved. Impatiently, she waited for some word, any word, from him or his reserve unit. It didn't come for several days.

They talked to Garret first. She had been in autopsy. He waited until she came out. From the look in his eyes, she knew it was bad news. He motioned for her to follow him into his office and sat down with her on his couch. "It's Woody,isn't it?" she asked, her face pale and lined with worry.

Garret nodded. "His unit was at a check point. A car bomb went off. Woody was involved. I don't know how bad….we should know in a little while."

"A little while? Why don't they know now? When are they going to tell us anything?"

"It takes the army a while to declassify stuff and get it out. Rule of thumb is, Jo, if you get a phone call, it's good news. If officers show up at your door, it's bad."

Hiding her face in her hands, Jordan could feel the tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Garret gently hugged her. "He's a strong man, Jordan. I'm sure he's fine."

"But I want to know now. I need to know."

"We all do. We just have to have faith right now…in Woody and the powers that be."

* * *

She had never been big on prayer. To be honest, ever since her mother's murder, her faith had been on shaky ground. It was difficult for her to believe that a God who defined His very name by love would be so cruel as to let such tragic things happen. But Woody had a strong, abiding faith.

And she had admired that….even if she didn't understand it. Especially why he could have such faith, given his back ground…Woody was an orphan, he had raised his younger brother….in many ways, his upbringing had been more difficult than hers. But yet his faith had withstood the rough life he had lived.

So now, she was clinging to his faith, hoping to make it her own. After she left Garret's office, she had made her way out of the morgue…needing to get away just for a little while…and found herself at St. Inez. Slowly, nearly reluctantly, she pushed open the door of the church and made her way down the aisle, pausing to light a candle before she knelt to pray.

Pray. God, she hadn't done that in so long….not even over meals. For so long, for her prayer meant meaningless words spoken to a God who probably didn't care.

And this all-powerful One may not care for her. But he had to care for Woody. Woody was a good man. The best man she had ever known. Woody loved her. And, if God really did know everything, He was well-aware of the fact she loved the detective.

_God…it's me. Jordan. Look, I know we haven't exactly been on speaking terms lately….You know I have issues with my past and blame You for a lot of it. I mean, I know it wasn't exactly all Your fault…there's this free-will issued involved, But still, You're God. And from what the nuns taught me, You have all the power…all the cards are in Your hands. You could have stopped it…._

_But that's not really why I'm here. I sort of put that behind me. I'm here for Woody Hoyt. I know You must know him. He's a good guy. He's one of Yours. Mass every Sunday….policeman…great man. I bet You broke the mold when You made him. _

_Anyway, I'm sure You know he's over in Iraq. And I just heard about a car bombing he was involved with….and I'm not getting any news. Garret heard that four of the soldiers were killed…two were wounded. Please let him have walked away from it in one piece….or just be one of the wounded ones. _

_This man is important to me, God. He loves me. Me. Jordan Cavanaugh…as screwed up as I am, Woody loves me. And I don't know what I'd do without him. Life was hard enough without my mom. I don't know how I would live without Woody. Just please….if I don't ask for anything else in my life…just give me this man back._

_And I'll go to him to mass every Sunday when he comes home. I promise..._


	10. Stateside

**Chapter Ten**

She rose from her knees, feeling lighter…better than she had in days. She went back to the morgue and locked herself in her office. It was nearly four in the afternoon when her phone light came on. She pressed the intercom button. "Jordan, it's a call from Woody's reserve unit…line two," Emmy's voice said.

Garret, Nigel, and Bug overheard. They gathered around her door while she took the call. She punched line two and picked up the receiver. "Cavanaugh," she said.

"Dr. Cavanaugh, Woodrow Hoyt has you listed as his next of kin….I'm calling to let you know that he was involved with the car bombing that has been on the news this morning. He was wounded….took some shrapnel to the chest and the legs, but he's going to be fine. They have had him in surgery until now. He's going to be in the hospital here for a few days, then we're flying him to Germany for some more procedures."

Jordan quickly tried to absorb all of this information….but she was shaking so badly, she needed to make sure he was fine. "So he's going to be all right?" she asked, her voice still breaking.

"Yes. Absolutely. And your man's a hero. He pushed two of his fellow soldiers out of the way before the bomb went off. Seems he got an immediate read on the situation and reacted. Wouldn't be too surprised if he gets a Purple Heart out of this one."

"When will he go to Germany?" she inquired, fingering the cross around her neck.

"Probably in a couple of days."

"And then he'll go back to Iraq?"

"More than likely."

"Is there anyway I can speak with him when he comes out of recovery?"

"I'll make sure he calls, Dr. Cavanaugh."

Jordan hung up the phone, sighing with relief and a prayer of thanksgiving. Turning, she saw a small knot of people at her door – people that had helped her through the last year and a half without Woody…Garret, Bug, Nigel, Lily, some officers from the homicide department. The emotions of the last year and today finally broke her. Tears running down her face, she simply said, "He's alive. And going to be fine…." And was promptly drowned out by the sound of cheering and hands clapping….when it finally died down, she explained the rest of the situation.

Garret hugged her…"See," he whispered in her ear, "I told you phone calls were the best. Now go home and wait for him to call."

Jordan didn't argue. She was suddenly too tired for words. She grabbed her pocketbook and went back to her apartment. It wasn't until nearly one the next morning that her cell phone rang. She knew who it was before she looked at the caller ID.

"How are you feeling, soldier boy?" she asked.

She heard a soft, weak chuckle. "You know….police work is a piece of cake compared to this shit."

She laughed with him. "I'm just so glad you're okay…"

"If you can call all these incisions on me okay, I guess I am."

"It's better than the alternative."

He chuckled again. "True."

"So tell me, sweetheart, how bad did they get you?"

"They dug several pieces out of my chest…nothing life threatening. But the big worry is my legs. Most of the shrapnel caught me around the knees….I'll be fine, eventually."

"When are they flying you to Germany?"

"Day after tomorrow."

"Can I come and see you there?"

Woody sighed. "I wish. But no. You're not my wife or fiancé. They won't let you."

"Damn."

"I told you we should have gotten engaged …"

"I know…I'd just like to see for myself that you're doing well….I worry, you know?"

He knew. He knew she worried about him constantly. And unfortunately, there was now good reason for her to worry. So he did what any other man would do. He lied.

"There's no reason to worry. I'll get excellent medical care in Germany. I'll call you when I get there and let you know what's going on."

"You'd better. You know how ugly I can get when I'm pissed…."

Chuckling again, he said. "Oh, I remember. All to well, Dr. Cavanaugh. Just tell me you miss me and love me and I'll be much better."

He heard her sigh. "Woody, I love you….and miss you more than I can describe….be careful with yourself."

"I will…and you do the same. I love you Jordan."

* * *

He called from Germany and to Jordan's relief, he sounded stronger. "It hurts," he told her…."It really hurts."

"Be a good boy and do what the doctor says and the boo-boos will be all better in no time," she replied.

He snorted. "It's going to take a while."

"Well, at least you're not eating MREs."

"No…German food is pretty good. So are the blonde German nurses."

"Woody….do I need to come over there?"

He laughed. "No….I'm being good…besides, none of them can hold a candle to you."

She felt herself blush. "So how long are you going to be in Germany?"

"Several weeks. They want to be sure my knees are okay."

After that they talked nearly every day….she would always ask about what the doctor said…his knees were getting better…the surgery was successful. It was only a matter of time before he was shipped back to Iraq. He had one more last round of tests to go, then he'd go back to his unit.

It all seemed routine….until one day she got a call while she was in autopsy. "It's from Woody, and it's urgent," Garret said, bringing her cell phone in the autopsy room.

"Woody, what's wrong, honey?"

"Morning Jordan…how are you?"

"I'm fine…" she was a bit puzzled. He sounded like everything was normal.

"Glad to hear it. Are you getting enough rest?"

Now really confused, she faintly answered him, "Yes."

"Good. Remember the night before I left to go back to Iraq from my furlough…in your dad's bar….on the couch?"

She felt her checks redden and was aware that Garret was giving her a funny look. "Um….yeah. All too well….Woody – what is going on?"

He didn't answer her question. "Remember the interesting suggestion you had for the desk…the idea we didn't have time to follow through with?"

Her face got redder, if possible. Clearing her throat, she tried to answer in her most professional tone, "Yes, of course I do."

He read her obvious discomfort. "You're not by yourself are you?"

"No."

He laughed. "Then you remember what you said about…"

"I remember, Woody," she cut in. Merciful heavens, what was he getting at? "This doesn't sound urgent…"

"Oh, but it is. How would you like to try out that novel idea next weekend?"

"Woody?"

"They don't think my knees can stand all the marching anymore…."

"And?"

"They're shipping me stateside next week. I'm coming home."


	11. A Hero's Welcome

**Chapter Eleven**

He came home to a hero's welcome. The Boston PD pulled out all the stops. He was met with an honor guard at the airport. Jordan held her breath as she saw him come out of the exit ramp, in his uniform, Purple Heart displayed on his chest. He was still on crutches…and would be for a while yet. But he dropped them the minute he saw her, taking her in his arms and kissing her soundly in front of everyone. He shook hands with his chief and with Garret. Then everyone went to the Pogue.

This time there was no dancing with Woody after everyone left. His knees prevented that. From what Jordan could tell, everything would be fine…he just needed to give them time to heal. He watched her close up and finally she was ready to take him back to her apartment. "I guess no dancing for us tonight," he said somewhat sadly.

"Well, there's always that desk thing we talked about…."

He grinned. "I can't do that yet….not on a desk, not anywhere, yet."

"We can always save it 'til later. We have all the time in the world, Farm Boy."

"Farm Boy. That's been a long time coming."

"And I've missed calling you that so much." She helped him to her car.

"Have you had time to read through my medical reports?" he asked as she pulled out into the Boston traffic.

"Yeah. I read through them while everyone was talking with you."

"Think the doctor was shooting me straight? Do you think I'll really be okay?"

"I think so. You've had the best surgeons and the top-of-the-line procedures. I just think you're going to have to be patient with yourself and let your knees really heal."

He sat back. Patience was one of his strong points…just look at him and Jordan. He waited on her for years. But the pain bothered him. He'd work through it.

And he did. It wasn't easy. Jordan helped him with his physical therapy. The chief gave him a desk job until he could throw away his crutches. Ah, those crutches. They were the ball and chain of his life. He couldn't do anything without them until his knees healed. Including make love to Jordan. And it was killing them both. So the day he could set them aside, they went to the Pogue. She closed. They danced. They tried out the suggestion she had made about the desk in the office. She would never look at office furniture again without feeling slightly turned on.

He went back to his regular detective job. It seemed like old times….he'd come to the morgue at lunch time and they'd go out. He was still living with Jordan. He had mentioned getting an apartment several times, but she always vetoed the idea. "You've been gone nearly two years. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

"I don't feel right about this, Jordan," he replied.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing…there's still a lot of stuff I'm having to adjust to…Two years have brought on a lot of change…I'm trying not to get so upset about things…but in some ways, I feel like I've been forgotten."

Jordan looked crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Woody. I know no one did, though."

"I know that, too. It's just taking me some time."

"Not all of the change has been negative though…I've changed, too."

Woody looked surprised. She was a stronger person than she realized she was…he had known that. But what had he missed? "How?" he finally asked.

"Well, I'm going to mass on Sundays…"

"You're joking."

"Nope. Me and God had a long talk the day I found out you were involved in the bombing. I promised if Him if He would give you back to me, I'd go to mass every Sunday. I've kept my promise."

Woody looked at her, completely amazed. He never figured Jordan would set foot in a church unless it was to have one of their children christened. He even imagined they would have a civil wedding service. He guessed she was right. Not all the change had been negative.

"There's one promise you haven't kept, though," he told her.

"What?"

"You said you'd wear my ring when I got home."

In the haste to get him home and get him back to normal…their lives back to normal, she had forgotten about her promise.

"Are you sure you're ready?" she asked.

"It kept me sane while I was in Iraq."

She nodded. "Yes. I'll gladly wear the ring now…you're home with me…and not going anywhere else we can't go together."

He pulled box from his pocket and handed it to her. "I had it when I came home on furlough. I hope you like it…I picked it out myself."

She carefully opened the box. There, nestled on a field of black velvet was a square cut diamond solitaire. "It's beautiful, Woody."

He slid it on her finger. "I think the hand it's on is more beautiful than the ring. And the woman attached to the hand is the prettiest I've ever known." Jordan blushed as his lips claimed hers.

And so it was a few weeks, later, living up to her promise of a short engagement and a quickie wedding, that they were married by Paul, Jordan's friend who was the priest at St. Inez. In front of family and a few friends, they repeated their vows. Jordan wore a simple white dress with pink and white flowers in her hair. Woody wore his uniform.

When the vows were over, and sealed with a kiss, Paul gave the blessing before he pronounced them husband and wife: "They've had their time of war….being separated….worrying and wondering about each other. They've had their time of fear…not knowing if Woody had been taken from them. They've had their time of healing…waiting for his knees to get better and them to become adjusted to each other again. Now, let them have their time of peace, and be blessed with the presence of the Savior in their marriage."


End file.
